Forgive Me Mother For I Have Sinned
by OzzyDear
Summary: After a strange dream, Lilium Parrish  goes to search for her daughter in a little town called Silent Hill, but ends up hunting for something else as well...
1. Prologue

A note from the author: This story is told in first person from Lilium's perspective. This "fine piece of literature," if that is even plausable, is entirely fictional. I do not own Silent Hill, and it is owned by Konami. This story also does not occur before or after any of the games or the movie; it's nothing but a story about this horrid town and a woman who has no memory of her past. I surely do appreciate critisim and ask of you critics to read and review. (Everybody's a critic, whether you like it or not.) So get your reading glasses on and enjoy...unless you either don't need those or you already have them on...then just read and, hopefully, enjoy.

-Ozzy Dear!

X_

Prologue

_Where am I again?_

Lingering in this ever so vast dream-world had that enlightening blast of energy, running blunt through my veins like a mad taxi-driver not getting the two cents he deserved. I seemed to be floating, even though my feet were touching a rough sort of asphalt, leading me to nothingness. And when I say nothingness, I actually mean nothingness. A fence of illusions, glowing white as a freshly exposed skull, taunted and sneered at me like it had nothing better to do. _You're trapped, you worhtless fool! You can't go anywhere, you damned sinner! Try to find your way out - I dare ya'. Go on. Do it! Make me laugh! _

All those remarks...all those imaginary sounds...all seemed to rush through my head. I tried will all my might to just shake it all off. It made perfect sense for me to be hearing things. I was a drunkard - these things happened all the time!

_Not as bad as this...No...I really need to stop drinking...but I could really use a strong whiskey or something. Yeah - whiskey sounds good. This is all a dream..I can always make a pub or something appear, considering it is my mind._

An echoing chuckle errupted from my throat, rumbling through the empty white setting. My arms crossed tightly across my chest while my chin tilted up and as my eyes strained to let me focus on a small portion of the blank area to create just what I needed in order to function properly. That chuckle soon morphed to an uproar of mad laughter, knowing all would vanish away pretty soon and I'll be as drunk as a sailor. I could see faint lines processing ever so thin, probably a corner of my dream bar.

_Soon, I'll wake up with a hangover...Oh Jesus Christ, a hangover. Do I have any asprin with me? Yeah, that'll be just fine. And maybe some vegetable juice or apple juice. Yeah, that'll work just fine. Oh, what am I saying? There's nothing good with a head splitting headache and that feeling where your stomach is going to ascend up your throat and drain out of your mouth._

The Devil and God were tearing me apart within my sack of skin and bones. They lashed out on each other, ripping at my organs and sinking their razor-sharp teeth into my muscles. At any moment, those parisites could easily bust out of their shelter and kill me, and then fight over me to drag me to either Heaven or Hell. Well, maybe I deserved Hell..

Moist bubbles formed at the waterline of my eyes, soon to downpour and take a stroll down my cheeks. Was this really how I was? Although my epiphany happened every time I craved those bitter drinks, this seemed to be as if my pathetic insides wanted me to just wither away and laugh at me crawling around, begging for a drink that would just wash away the stress for merely a night.

_That's what you do anyways. Selling yourself just to get your fix. How pathetic._

My hazel eyes couldn't stand the moisture any longer. They let the tears worm along down the path, all the way to my chin, and then the earth below. Usually when tears hit the ground, you hear the contact between the two as the silence continued it's racket. But there was no plop. Nothing. Out of my hysterical curiousity, my wet eyes casted downwards just for a peek...

Outgrown toe nails, cracked and khaki, extended with a curl downwards. Bones poked out here and there, probably sick of being crammed inside of a small stretch of skin and muscle before their feelings were cheered with their hopes and dreams. The little skin left was either a flimsy flap that hung helplessly for dear life after a bone interrupted its peaceful enviroment, or it was a rotton patch, splattered and incrimsoned with what I hoped was strawberry jelly...

_Oh my God! What the hell? What's wrong with my feet? Oh God!_

And then it happened; the pain. Something struck me right in the back, slicing through me so easily, ignoring all my howls of agony. As if it wasn't enough, the mystery object used to run through me decided to restart, only slower and closer to the small lump to which was the start of my neck. The sensation of a cool and thick liquid trickling and tracing my figure was poison; a partner in crime with the stabbing. It numbed me to ice, causing me to collapse to the non-existant ground head first. The snap of my nose could be heard from miles away, but, alas, no one was kind enough to appear and help me from becoming a heap of dead meat.

But there was one person: my daughter.

"Cicely! Please help me!"

She did nothing. She only stood with a tiny hunch she was born with, gazing emotionless to me. Her platnium hair beamed, but she was ever so dull. Previously, her brightly lit forest eyes erupted smiles, but now...now it was obscure.

"I-I'm dying! Help me!"

No reaction; only a tilt of her head was motioned, but not even a cringe or twitch in her face took place. Nothing. She was as bland as the setting, and as empty as it, too. Moments before, there was laughter and cheer and merry. It made no sense that all would blink away to nonexistance. But, out of all the still motion, her long legs dressed in indigo jeans made their way in my direction.

_She's coming to save me! I'm gonna live! I'm going to survive! Oh God, thank you! Thank you! I'm so blessed to be saved from-_

My thoughts were interupted by shock. My own daughter simply crouched down, looked me straight in the eye with hers, all bloodshot and tainted, and muttered all monotone-like, "I'll be in Silent Hill while you die. You'll be in for a treat; you'll remember everything once you find me...In Silent Hill."


	2. Chapter Two: Awake

Another note from this old author: Hopefully, I didn't bore you to death in the prologue. Hopefully, you don't die from boredom while skimming, scanning, or actually reading this chapter. It kinda starts off slow, I admit. At least, to what I think. Don't forget to review!

-Ozzy Dear!

X_

Chapter One: Awake

I could barely breathe.

My hellish nightmare was too horrifying for me to handle. I was so deprived of moisture and salt only because of the precipitaion leaking from every pore of my skin. The sheet barely concealing my bare body was practically damp from my nervous sweat during the night. Tears seemed to have streamed down to the pillow my head lied on for a portion of the night. My eyes blinked rapidly; they had been dry beyond belief as if they were open for three centuries. A headache pounded at the walls of my cranium, probably from all the shots to get drunk enough for happiness the night before...Obviously, the liquor did not do the punch it was consumed for. I did, however, get laid...

But the stranger beside me was the least bit attractive. His face was scarred by historic acne that had been popped ages before my time; a scruffy pepper beard had grown tangled across his jaw with small particles of what looked like dried mustard. Light reflected off of the top of his bald head, a deformed tattoo of what might have been a dragon curling around the top of the skin that stretched across his skull. His back and chest had a forest of fur that curled this way and that, and a trail of thinner hair lead down to his beer belly that exceeded the crease of the antique sheets.

_What the fuck is wrong with me? I seriously need to lay off the shots._

I sat up, caressing the temples displayed on my head. The migraine slapped me internally, switching from one side of my gray matter to the other. My digits rubbed in circular motions, trying to ease the pain, but all failed; time to get the asprin.

I grasped the fabric and tossed it aside, pushing myself off of the mattress. The bottoms of my feet splashed into a puddle of an unknown substance, which was sure to ruin the wooden planked flooring. The liquid immediatly chilled me to the bone, instantly causing an alarm to go off in the muscle that beat in my chest. As soon as the pupil of my eyes took sight of the fluid, I nearly fainted.

Blood.

The crimson sap seemed to glare menancing at me, keeping silent. But the silence screamed and snarled at me, somehow hurting me. Somehow.

"Oh God. Oh my fucking God!" I breathed heavily, trying to make sense of it. Random pools of blood that leaked through the floor wasn't an every day occurance. There was one thought that was definately far from logical, but somehow seemed to be the key.

My nightmare. Oh, how could I have forgotten the misery? I was being sliced and stabbed and taunted and torn; there should have been blood. A shit-load, too. What if I was actually bleeding outside of dreamworld? What if all that occurred in the incubus actually happened?

_Of course not! Get your asprin, get your juice, go make frozen food for your daughter, go visit the grave with a bottle of heavy whiskey, and go strip down!_

I couldn't help but let out a giggle; it wasn't possible for that to happen in the first place, obviously.

_It's probably a drink with cherry syrup in it, you buffoon!_

My lean legs took a strut towards my closet, shrugging off the fluid remaining on the floor. It was silly for me to think things such as spontanous blood like the wood was suffering through a terrible menstral cycle. The chicken-fingers attatched to my left hand wrapped around the yellow door knob, tugged and twisted, forcing the wooden door with chipped white paint to open wide and reveal my "glorious" selection of clothing. I rummaged through the various options before claiming my prize: a tight lace undershirt in the color of snow, a low v-neck black sweater that clung onto my ivory skin for dear life, and black denim shorts. I leaned down to obtain some undergarments that lay in a basket for me to easily select before dressing my nude body.

I tossed my yellow hair from out of my eyes, but it just slithered its way back into my eyes as a cliche would go along to explain. I trudged my way out of my bedroom, took three steps, and entered my darling's room. Usually her door was tightly shut, but it was strangely open to the world. As I sauntered around, I couldn't help but look at everything. The pueter walls hung naked with the occassional cross or symbol or a picture of Jesus Christ himself; the window sat open, letting the tattered and stained curtains flutter around, trying to break away from being attatched to a metal pole for decoration; a bed lay untouched...

Untouched.

_She's probably in the bathroom._

I trudged to the bathroom, the creaking of the floor intensifying with each pat. My right hand morphed into fist, knocking lightly on the anitque door, cooing polietly, "Cicely, you in there?"

No reply.

I knocked again.

No reply.

"What the fuck Cicely, open the door! Are you taking a shit or something?"

My heart raced and beat frantic; my mood swiftly swung hysterical in a matter of seconds. Surely she was in there. Surely she didn't go anywhere. She never did. She wasn't allowed to. My legs outstretched and ran this way and that, searching and searching, but I only ended up back in the pueter room. My arms waved around, swiping through anything in sight. Even if it was impossible for her to hide in a crevice the size of a coloring book, I pushed anything aside to find her. All until a single page note made it's way in my upper extremeties.

Dear Mother,

Remember what I said?

From, Cicely.

"Oh my fucking God."


End file.
